An Inaudible Cry For Help
by edlovesjuicyfruit73
Summary: Prepare yourself to be taken on a psychological roller coaster ride when Victor struggles to help a troubled teen. Lucas Ray has been through hell, but it has only just begun. Victor never imagined one person could change his life...forever.
1. Scars

**A/N: I have nothing to say... So, just read on!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names, places, characters, (except my OC's, of course) or anything else affiliated with Trauma Center, this was made strictly for entertainment purposes. All of the above belongs to its copyright owner, Atlus. **

"Please!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Oh, please, please, please!"

"Ugh shut up already! Fine, fine!" Victor groaned, massaging his throbbing temples. "Anything to shut you _up_..."

"Oh, thank you Mr. Niguel!" the ecstatic Lucas Ray thanked him.

"Don't get used to it..." mumbled Victor, returning to his work.

Lucas was an unusual boy; instead of being at the movies on a wonderful Friday night such as tonight, he preferred to hang around at Caduceus where his mother was being treated. Lucas was 16 years old, a science geek, and he wore large-framed glasses to add to his already nerdy appearance. He also wore his long-sleeved, black shirt tucked into his black slacks. Though no one cared to notice, Lucas had beautiful, hazel eyes that shimmered like gold. They were magnificent, gorgeous eyes.

Lucas was a scrawny boy; not much could be said about his muscles, if there were any on his bony frame. He wore his hair short, though one particular brown strand liked to hang in front of his face and drive him crazy. He'd blow upward in order to get rid of it, though it didn't always keep it away for long. This habit annoyed Victor greatly. Of course, not as much as his habit of biting his fingernails when anxious. That bugged him more.

Lucas had come to Victor to take him as an apprentice; he wanted to learn more about researching and developing, for his future career was just that. He hoped he would be able to pull off high enough grades to succeed in pursuing such a difficult career, but if he got hands-on experience at the place where he intended to work when he graduated from college, it would help that much more.

"So what can I do, Mr. Niguel?" Lucas asked.

"You uh... You can go sort the files in the cabinet over there," Victor replied.

"Oh... Okay..." Lucas said, evidently crushed that his new mentor didn't believe he could do anything useful. He obeyed and began sorting the files alphabetically.

While he organized, Lucas hummed the theme song to Bill Nye the Science Guy, a show he had enjoyed as a child. This only drove Victor deeper into insanity.

"Lucas, shush!" the aggravated researcher barked. Lucas leapt out of his skin, apologizing repeatedly. "Just be quiet and let me do my work, if you want to act like an idiot, go hang out with Dr. Chase."

"Yes, sir..." Lucas replied meekly.

Two hours later Lucas had finished tidying up the lab, arranging everything in sight in alphabetical/numerical order, and he had finished all his homework.

"Anything else I can do?" Lucas asked, sure that Victor would give him a more exciting job now that all the organizing chores had been completed.

"Yeah, go give this to the Chief, would you?" he asked, thrusting a pile of forms into Lucas' arms. "Get him to sign them."

With a large sigh, Lucas obeyed and ascended the stairs to give the forms to the director of Caduceus, Sidney Kasal.

"Um, good evening, Mr. Director Kasal sir, Mr. Niguel wanted me to uh, give these to you," Lucas said sheepishly, shrinking under Sidney's calm stare. Lucas was a very shy boy.

"Who are you?" Sidney asked, looking the teen up and down.

"I'm Lucas Ray, Mr. Director Kasal sir," he answered, handing him the pile of forms. "He needs you to please sign these. He didn't say please, but I think he meant to say please."

"Heh, thanks, son." Sidney said with a chuckle, scanning the forms. "So what's the deal? Why are you working with Mr. Niguel down there?" The director signed all the forms after reading them carefully. He'd become quite skilled when it came to skimming through forms.

"He took me as an apprentice, Mr. Director Kasal--..."

"Please, call me Sidney."

"Oh, of course, Mr. Director K-- Sidney."

"An apprentice, huh? Doesn't a lad like you have better things to do on a Friday night?"

"No, sir, I don't have many friends. I tend to stay with my family, you see. My family, however, is all here this fine spring night. My mother was diagnosed with a... Well, they aren't quite sure what it is yet, but they'll figure it out."

"So, do you like science alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes sir, I love science. I actually hope to work here at Caduceus once I graduate from college. I want to be an R&D member just like Mr. Niguel!" the teen chimed.

"Well it's good to hear. We need more R&D members, after all. I'll be happy to welcome you aboard when the time comes," Sidney said. He pat the boy on the head, handing him the forms. "Just bring those down to the fax room and give them to Mrs. White, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Lucas scurried off, taking care not to slip on the wet floor as the janitor mopped it.

"Mrs. White?" Lucas asked, stepping into the dark and cold fax room. No one appeared to be here. "Hello?"

The boy looked around, searching for any signs of life. The fax room looked abandoned.

"Well, these are important forms... I can't just leave them here." Lucas thought things through, then decided he'd bring them down to Victor.

"Did you get those forms signed?" Victor asked.

"Yes, Mr. Niguel, they're all signed. I went to the fax room to give them to Mrs. White just like Mr. Kasal told me to, but no one was there," the boy answered.

"You probably went to the wrong fax room, hmm? Did you go to room 003?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then you went to the wrong room. That's the old fax room, the new one's on the top floor, third door to your right down the fourth hallway," he told him, waving him away with his hand. "Don't come back until the forms are sent where they need to go."

"Yes, sir," Lucas said, rushing off towards the _current_ fax room.

"Oh, good evening young man," the kind-hearted Mrs. White greeted him. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, just some forms Mr. Niguel down in R&D needs sent off. He got the director's signatures, so he told me to come here and give them to you," Lucas answered. He handed the forms to the red-headed lady, smiling brightly at her winning grin.

"That was nice of you to do that for Mr. Niguel," Mrs. White said, impressed. She glanced down at the forms, only to set her eyes upon Lucas' exposed wrist instead. There appeared to be a fresh scar on the flesh.

Lucas immediately pulled down his sleeve, covering it. He acted as though nothing had happened, staring off at the wall.

"Um..." Mrs. White struggled to find the words to say.

"Thank you," he said coldly, storming off.

Lucas rushed into the bathroom, breathing heavily as he leaned over the sink. He quickly checked the room, making sure no one was present.

After feeling secure that he was alone, he pulled out a bent staple and lifted his sleeve up. He twisted and turned his arm, searching for a fresh patch of skin that had not yet been scarred. When he couldn't find one, he cringed and lifted the sleeve of his unscarred, _left_ arm. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this...

"Ah..." he gasped, cutting deep into his arm with the sharp staple. Crimson blood bubbled up from the self-inflicted wound, dripping down his arm and down the drain of the sink.

"Won't... stop... won't stop, not until Mother's well... not until... Mother's well..."


	2. Gruesome Past

Three months had passed since Lucas had become Victor's apprentice, but things weren't getting better. His grades still flourished and he was doing well as an assistant to Victor, but his mother's health was declining.

By the end of the fourth month since she'd been sent to Caduceus, marking four months total for Lucas as an apprentice there, nothing had drastically improved. 

His mother was diagnosed with AIDS as well as being informed she was pregnant. She'd had an affair months ago, yet Lucas' father still wanted to see _him_...

But Lucas' gruesome past traced back further than just a few months. Things had been rough and grim for him ever since his father had returned from war. 

"_Damnit, Anna, nothing is worse than what I saw out there!" his father screamed at the top of his lungs. "Things will never be the same!" _

"_Yes, it will, it'll be fine... We'll get through this and everything will be okay..." she reassured, rubbing his arm. _

"_No it won't!" he roared, backhanding her. She burst into tears, dropping to the floor. _

_5-year-old Lucas watched from the other room as his father beat his mother for the second time. He was intoxicated as well as infuriated. Still, Anna had always returned to him, no matter what he did..._

"_Lucas!" the drunken man screamed. He'd had his share of torturing the boy's mother, Anna. "Come here..." _

_Lucas reluctantly obeyed, stepping into the kitchen where the floor was stained with blood, alcohol, and tears. _

"_You know what __**this**__ is?" he asked, shaking a bottle of highly toxic acid before the child's eyes. "This here is what was used to torture hundreds of thousands of people in the war, including your old man... Let us have matching scars, my son..." _

_A sharp cry pierced the ears of his siblings as he was pinned to the wall, a waterfall of acid pouring down on his exposed skin. They stood, watching, waiting for their turn to die. Lucas did not perish, thankfully, for his older brother Walter had taken a heroic stand. _

"_Take me instead, Father... Let Lucas live..." he had said. _

Harold Ray had brutally beaten his wife and son that night. With them, Lucas' older brother and two younger sisters were murdered, no traces of their bodies to ever be found. The family had lived in secrecy then, and still did so to this day. (Only, now Lucas' father lived in Arkansas rather than in California, due to the affair.)

After losing her children, Anna to became insane and too full of grief to think properly. In all those years, Lucas had remained loyal to her, taking her beatings and also being beaten _by_ her as she became so drunk she could barely stand. Those scars remained now, along with his self-inflicted ones. 

His mother had been sober for five months, but that didn't ease Lucas' pain in the least. She didn't appreciate his effort, didn't believe in him, and she didn't support his decision to become an R&D when he grew up. All she cared for now was herself and the father of her baby. 

After hearing his mother had gotten pregnant with Louis Manor, a cashier at McDonalds, well... Lucas went a little off the deep end. 

"_So imperfect, am I! Thought you needed some fry-boy's love to smother my own, your own son's! So imperfect am I, so damn imperfect you felt you needed to replace me with __**his**__ damn offspring!" _

His outburst in the men's room had captured the attention of many, though he was through with screaming and cutting himself by the time anyone gathered enough courage to investigate. 

"Lucas," Mrs. White called him one day. He had been home alone, studying chemistry and taking occasional breaks to cut himself in the bathroom. 

"Yes, this is Lucas," he said into the phone, still skimming through his chemistry notes. His final test would be coming up, then they'd be out for the summer. He wanted to do exceptionally well to prove to his mother he was not a failure.

"Sidney didn't have the heart to tell you... And no one else was brave enough..." Mrs. White began, taking a deep breath. "Lucas, your mother... she... she had a fatal allergic reaction to fluid that had seeped from her placenta, she went into anaphylactic shock and she... she didn't make it." 

Lucas dropped his pencil, eyes widening. He nearly dropped the phone as he sat up, beginning to shake violently. "P-pardon...?"

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Lucas..." she apologized, sounding quite choked up. "Your mother is gone." 

Lucas took the phone from his ear, hanging up right away. He stared at the phone for a very long time, feelings of depression finally sinking in. 

_Your mother is gone..._

That final sentence resounded in his ears, haunting him and driving him mad. He tossed the phone at the apartment wall, overturning a table and bawling as he mourned his dead mother. 

After an hour of rampaging through the apartment and burning everything in sight, tossing all inflammable objects out the window, he sat in fetal position in the corner of the bathroom, rocking back and forth. 

"M-Mother..." he whispered, tears pouring down his face. "I'm sorry..." He buried his face in his hands, crying into them until dusk. 

"I said I would stop when Mother was well... and... now that she's dead... _I can never stop_..." He stood up, approaching the sink slowly. He was tired of this pain, this suffering... He needed an escape; he would cut yet again. 

This time, however, he wouldn't be using his pathetic staple. He wanted the real deal this time; a knife. 

"I knew I saved this for something..." he murmured, removing a knife from beneath the sink. It was a switchblade he'd stolen from a 5th grader a couple years back, but he vowed never to use it unless completely necessary. This moment called for just that. 

Exposing the fresh, unscarred skin on his left arm, he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain. 

He gasped as the sharper, more clean-cutting knife finely carved into his skin. A feeling of intoxication rushed into him, driving him to cut again, and again, and again. This ecstasy was masking his internal pain. The self-inflicted pain cut deeper than the skin, it hurt so terribly in his heart that thoughts of his mother or father or anyone else was drowned, replacing them with this wonderful and horrendous rush of painful happiness. 

He'd cut himself from dusk till dawn, only exiting his wrecked apartment when it was time for school. If nothing else, he had to make his mentor, Victor, proud of him. 

OooooooO

"Poor kid..." Victor whispered, shaking his head. "Losing his mother like that... That's awful." 

Mrs. White nodded in agreement. "It was so hard telling him over the phone, I just hope he is alright..." 

"Of course he's not alright, his mother's _dead_... And now, since Louis Manor doesn't want him, they'll send him to his father. Lucas never spoke to me about his father, so assume they aren't close." 

Neither of them knew about Lucas' father or about their family history. They decided together that they would discuss the issue with Sidney and then with Lucas, because if at all possible, they wanted to give Lucas the opportunity to come to Caduceus everyday as he had been the past few months. 

Victor watched the clock anxiously as it struck three, the time Lucas normally arrived at Caduceus. Since he'd finished work early and had nothing else to work on, he could do nothing but wait for Lucas to come so they could work something out. 

"Mr. Niguel!" Lucas shouted breathlessly as he flew down the stairs. 

"Lucas..." Victor started, not entirely intending to say anymore. 

"Mr. Niguel... I..." he stammered, clenching a piece of paper in his hand. "I'm sorry... I failed..." He fought back tears as he handed the crumbled piece of paper to Victor, a large, red "F" slapped on it. It was the chemistry test. 

"Don't worry about that..." he said, tossing the paper aside. "Now that your mom is... gone... you... you have some decisions to make for your future." 

"Mr. Niguel..."

"Forget about the damn paper Lucas!" Victor growled, gritting his teeth. "You are now an orphan in the state's eyes, that is, unless your father in Arkansas decides to become your legal guardian! Now, I know he's taken care of you before..."

"No!" he shrieked, eyes wide in fright. "Don't send me with Father, I'm begging you!" 

"Why not?" he asked, puzzling over his outburst. 

"B-because..." he stuttered, "Because, I want to keep coming h-here..." 

"I understand that, we want you to keep coming here, but if he takes custody..." 

"Don't let him take custody!" Lucas cried, trembling. "Just don't tell him Mother's dead... I can take care of myself, really I can! Don't l-let him... t-take me away..." 

"Don't worry, we're not going to let your father take you if you really don't want him to..." Sidney assured him, for he had walked in midway through the conversation. "If you truly don't want to go, we can always keep you in the shadows. You must have your own reasons for not wanting to go with him, so I'll let this rest in your hands." 

"Thank... you..." he whispered, burying his face in the older man's shoulder. Right now, he just needed to cry. He was hurt and confused. 

Victor sensed something, something deeper and darker than his mother's death. Victor could hear it, though the others besides Mrs. White could not; Lucas was inaudibly crying for help... 


	3. The Acid Incident

Days after Anna Ray's death, the only ones who stood at her grave were Lucas and Victor. The funeral reception had ended hours ago, but Lucas still had some tears to shed before he could leave.

"It's getting late," Victor remarked, arms folded in front of his chest.

"I'm sorry..." Lucas murmured, still sitting motionless before his mother's burial place. The sun was setting, a sight Lucas often stopped to watch, but not this evening. He couldn't think of anything but her death.

"Why don't you want to live with your father, Lucas?"

"I... I don't like to talk about him..." he muttered, turning his back to his mentor.

OooooooO

"_My, you've grown," Harold Ray said in a seemingly sober tone as he looked his 13-year-old son up and down. He'd been living in Arkansas then, for he had just split from Anna after the affair. _

"_Yeah, I guess I have," Lucas replied sheepishly. He had agreed to come visit his father by Harold's request, coming prepared, confident, and with an open mind. He also came with forgiveness in his heart; if his father could change, he would be willing to accept him as his father again. _

"_Go unpack your things upstairs. When you're done, I have a game for us to play." Lucas nodded and rushed upstairs, eager to see what his father had in mind. _

_When he descended the stairs, a smile spread across his face, Harold felt almost resentful for what he was about to do. __**Almost**__. _

"_Remember that type of acid I wanted you to memorize? The formula?" he asked him, holding out a flask of the acid he'd used as torture years before. Lucas stared at it with wide eyes, backing into the staircase. _

"_L-let's play a game of cards instead..." he offered in a powerless voice. Before he could even utter a scream, Harold had him held down. He quickly bound him in ropes, shoving him into a chair. _

_The lights went out. Lucas looked around anxiously, wondering what his father had up his sleeve this time. Had he gotten more creative?_

"_Ahh..." he mumbled as a bright, white light shown down on him. _

"_It's just like those TV shows, son," Harold stated, pacing the room. "I ask you questions, you give me answers or else." _

"_D-Dad I don't like this game! C'mon, let's play Monopoly!" he shrieked, struggling to free himself. Harold only grinned hugely, approaching him and sloshing the substance in the flask. This flask was far larger than the bottle the acid had been contained in last time; the acid appeared more concentrated as well. _

"_What was that formula, Lucas?" he asked in a low voice. _

"_Uh... Cl equals..."_

"_Wrong." Untying the ropes just loose enough for his upper body to be exposed, he removed the top of the flask, pouring its toxic contents onto his son. _

"_Ahhhh!!" Lucas cried as the acid came into contact with his torso. It devoured the flesh rapidly, stripping his clothing and entire chest of skin in seconds. It slowly ate away at the flesh on his belly, leaving nothing left but badly burned and exposed under-flesh. The entire top layer of skin on his torso was gone. _

"_Heheh... Good..." Harold whispered._

_Panting and sweating, Lucas stared grimly at his father. He was stupefied. _

"_W-why, Father...? Why...?" he asked in a defeated voice. _

"_Why? Because I can, because it makes me feel better about myself. I want my boy to grow up to be just like his old man. You can do the same thing to your son when you become a father, and then you'll understand." _

"_No! I'll never be like you!" he exploded, face red in anger. Harold clenched his fist, veins popping out over his temples. No one stepped out of line and got away with it in the Harold Household. _

"_But you will, my foolish son... You will..." he whispered, pouring the remaining acid on him. _

_The last thing Lucas heard was his own, ear-piercing screaming. He could have been crying, but he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was screaming his lungs out until everything went to black. _

OooooooO

An agreement had been made; Mrs. White would care for Lucas until he graduated from high school, and then he was on his own. Once he turned 18 he could fend for himself and decide what to do with his life, but as an adolescent, his best choice was to accept her kind offer. This way, he could grow up without the fear of being lonely and without the feeling of remorse without a parental figure, which he had once had. Plus, Mrs. White didn't want to be his mother; she wanted to be his guardian, his friend. Nothing more.

He would continue coming to Caduceus after he recovered from the shock of losing his mother. She made it hard to love her, but Lucas had no choice. She had given birth to him and it was his instinct to love her. That he could not control.

"Are you going to come to Caduceus today?" Mrs. White called up to him. He poked his head out of the bathroom, screaming "yes" in reply. It had been 3 months since her parting; he was recovering quite well. He hadn't returned to school, but he was improving every day.

He sighed, examining his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were gray and lifeless. The cut marks made his arms appear like fields of grass, each individual scar a blade apart of that field. What was worse, the scars from the acid incident hadn't faded. There were still patches from the life-saving surgery he'd underwent on his torso years ago, patches of skin that still didn't blend with the rest. It was easy to see something awful had happened. That was why gym was his least favorite subject; whenever the shirt came off, the eyes glued to him. The boys would always whisper to themselves, looks of confusion and disgust plastered on their faces.

"What I would give... To remove these scars permanently..." he whispered, pressing a hand against the mirror. "What I would give..."


	4. Opening Up to Victor

Another day came and went, the weeks seeming endless. Within these long weeks, Lucas returned to school, discovering he'd missed too much to graduate that year like he'd worked so hard to do.

He watched through pained eyes as his classmates (he was a senior at 16, though the rest of his classmates were all 17) walked across the stage, all dressed in their fine robes as they received their diplomas.

"You'll graduate next year," Sidney assured him, giving him a light pat on the back. Mrs. White quickly agreed, giving him a huge hug. He knew they meant well, but it didn't seem to ease his great hurt. Had Victor encouraged him, maybe things would have been different.

After the ceremony, he congratulated his classmates and left the school.

Stepping into Mrs. White's car, he pressed his tear-stained face against the window and watched as the school shrunk away. He knew he may never again return...

OooooooO

It was summer vacation for Lucas, who had recovered from his depression over not graduating with his classmates. He would have to work hard if he would graduate next year, he knew that. But he was determined to gain entrance into the classes of the toughest teachers; that way, he would be guaranteed success. Hence, he gathered all the work he could to complete as summer homework.

Walking up to Victor, he shyly handed him the chemistry paper and asked that he revise it for mistakes. Victor accepted, looking indifferent as always.

"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, wrong. Wrong," Victor repeated over and over as he looked over Lucas' work.

Victor had been saying "wrong" on impulse, only to find his words caught in his throat as he laid eyes upon the final question. "…Correct."

Lucas glanced over his shoulder, nodding. He knew the last question would be correct for a fact.

"Arsenic, huh?" Victor murmured, reviewing the work. It was very thorough; flawless it was. Everything was spot on, down to the formulas and chemical makeup. The properties seemed altered from what he could remember, but everything else appeared correct. "Did you cheat?"

"No, Mr. Niguel, sir," Lucas stated, eyes flickering with pain. The reasons for his great knowledge lied deep inside, tracing back to those horrid visits with his father. He made sure he knew everything there was to know about arsenic, for that had been his father's sick torture device. The next time—if there was one—Lucas would be prepared. He wouldn't cower before his father as he had years before. He was book-smart and ready for anything his father could cook up. He wouldn't be denied his right to be treated as a human again.

"Earth to Lucas, I asked you a question!" Victor snapped.

"Pardon?"

"I said, are you an expert on arsenic?"

"I… guess you could say that."

"Interest of yours?"

Lucas didn't answer, only turning away as the painful memories flooded into him.

When Lucas failed to respond, Victor became impatient. He grabbed him by the arm and shook him, exposing the scar-enveloped flesh hidden beneath his left sleeve. He gasped, immediately recoiling. Lucas produced a deep-throated snarl, jerking away in a flash.

"Lucas…" Victor began, "let me see…"

"No!" the teen roared.

"Let me see, damnit!" he retorted, rising to his feet. Lucas tried to flee, failing before his legs received the message.

"Let go! Let go of me!" Lucas cried, struggling. Victor held onto his arm as tightly as he could, finding it difficult to keep a hold of.

Ignoring his pleas, he lifted the sleeve and feasted his eyes upon the scars. They were large and deep, some overlapping others. Victor looked up at him, eyes asking: "why?"

Lucas stared on back, tears filling his own hurt eyes. The once beautiful, golden-hazel shimmering eyes were now gray, bloodshot, and lifeless. They were now cruel; harsh; cold. Those gorgeous, stunning eyes no longer held that bright future, that desire; they only held pain and misery. They were pitiful, pleading eyes.

Tenderly—not averting his gaze—Victor lifted the other sleeve, revealing fresh scars. Investigating further, he discovered Lucas had cut up to the shoulders. It was an atrocious sight.

"How long?" he asked finally.

"A v-very long time…" Lucas confessed with a shudder.

"Why?"

Lucas wasn't sure how to answer. Was Victor ready to know? Was he even ready to share his grotesque memories? He mustered up all the courage within him and began.

"Father became an alcoholic after the war. He beat my mother, my siblings, and I. One night, he killed my siblings. Mother was driven into the arms of another man, and also into insanity. She beat me. Now I received Mother's beatings and Father's. Both of them were enraged…

"They split up, leaving me able to visit him in Arkansas only sometimes. Our family's secret was kept in the dark and remained unspoken of.

"At 13, I visited Father again. He wanted to play a game, so of course I agreed… But the game wasn't so fun… Because… He poured arsenic on me…" Lucas inhaled sharply.

"He had tortured me with the acid when I was 5, now repeating that torture so many years later. I've never been able to… understand why, but… That's the way it happened…" Lucas finished and exhaled deeply.

Victor let the words sink in, understanding at last. Lucas had hidden everything so well… Who could have imagined Lucas of all people to be the sufferer of child abuse?

"So that led to cutting…" Victor muttered, shaking his head. (True, the acid incident had much to do with his motivation to cut, but what led him to committing it was his mother's condition.)

"It… It felt so _good_… It got rid of the emotional pain; it made me happy and sick all at once… but then…" Lucas' eyes filled with tears once more. "It stopped feeling good… Now it… it hurts… But I'm addicted to cutting… I want to feel that intoxication, that sensation I get when I cut… But I don't want to cut if I can't feel that! I want to quit cutting, but I just can't stop! I can never stop now that Mother's _dead_!" Lucas finally gave in, bursting into tears. The emotions had been bottled up far too long. To spill them out here was a good place as any.

Involuntarily, Victor took the boy in his arms and allowed him to cry in his father-like embrace. Despite his attempts to release Lucas, his arms wouldn't budge. There was something inside that let him know he was doing the right thing.


	5. Missing Lucas

Three days after letting Victor in on his deep secret, Lucas had been convinced to go to therapy to seek professional help. His therapist, Mr. Langley, was a clean-shaven, slim man of 44. He wore glasses with large, black frames and was always wearing a nice suit. His black hair was cut short and he had kind, blue eyes (though the reddish color hinted he was sleep deprived). He came from a large family, born the 11th child of his mother and father and producing 9 children himself with his wife. Having to deal with so much chaos, you can guess he was a patient man; he had to be.

Lucas liked Mr. Langley, who was always supportive and understanding. He seemed to look through him as if rereading a book he'd memorized. Nevertheless, though it seemed Mr. Langley knew too much, Lucas couldn't help but warm up to him. He visited him often, growing more fond of him as time passed. Not a day went by when he wasn't in a therapy session with him. Mr. Langley was on call 24/7, but he always stopped by Caduceus to pay Lucas a visit.

Victor soon become aware that Lucas was showing up in his lab less and less often. There was no more of his humming the Bill Nye the Science Guy theme. There was no more of his murmuring in the background. There was no longer the constant sound of Lucas blowing away at that one strand of hair that never seemed to stay in place. Things that Victor had grown accustomed to were now absent, and he found that he missed them.

Victor normally enjoyed being alone, accompanied by silence; but not now. He lived in worry now, always fearing for Lucas' health. Those scars haunted him, always reminding him of Lucas' true nature. It still dumbfounded him that he hadn't seen through Lucas' disguise. He'd hidden it so well; Victor's genius had even been fooled.

Those things he'd come to recognize weren't heard in the laboratory anymore; Victor was lonely. At least when he heard those things, he knew Lucas was alive and well. He couldn't be sure now.

Late one afternoon, Victor found himself in an odd situation. He hadn't realized it, but he had been humming "Bill Nye the Science Guy" for almost 12 minutes. He caught himself when he recalled that Lucas wasn't in the lab. He hadn't been for weeks!

"Damnit!" Victor growled, realizing he missed Lucas. He wasn't one to really miss people; he was antisocial and he didn't grow attached to many (if he grew attached to anyone). He didn't like the empty feeling he was getting. It was a new feeling he wasn't very familiar with, and he didn't find it pleasant. He just shook his head and turned on the news, hoping it'd take his mind off it.

As if on cue, Lucas popped in, delivering a cheerful hello.

"Lucas!" Victor shouted, mouth wide open in surprise. He wasn't expecting him to come at all, especially not today. "What are you doing here?"

"Just dropping by to see how my mentor's doing," Lucas chimed, taking a seat on the couch beside him. "Did ya miss me?"

"Of course not," Victor answered immediately. He couldn't give Lucas the satisfaction of knowing he'd missed him! "Why would I miss an annoying pest like you? It's so nice and quiet, I can finally get some work done!"

"Okay."

"What do you mean 'okay'? Okay nothing. There are files to be organized, desks to be cleaned! Hop to it!" Victor ordered. Lucas smirked, following his mentor's instructions. It was good to be back.

OooooooO

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't see Lucas right now..." Mrs. White stated firmly as Harold Ray pressed her against the wall. She held one hand before her, gently pushing him away, while the other was held behind her back, clenching a walkie-talkie. She held the button down so the security guards and everyone else that had walkie-talkies could hear as the two conversed back and forth.

"You're his new 'mommy' aren't you? Call your 'little boy' up so I can talk to 'em. He's my son too, after all..." he interjected, breathing on her with his sour smelling breath. She gagged slightly, still forcing herself to remain collected. Surely security would realize her distress soon, right?

"Lucas is unavailable..." she repeated for the fourth time.

Harold's lip curled back in an angry snarl; he was obviously unhappy with this answer. He wrapped his cold fingers around her neck, tightening his grip until she could no longer breathe. "Wanna run that by me again?"


	6. Murder

_Murder_

Mrs. White's scream echoed through the hospital, abruptly cut short as Harold Ray did what no one had expected.

She hadn't felt pain, for she had gone almost instantly.

Harold's way of killing simply wasn't stabbing the victim to death; he preferred his chemically altered arsenic!

There was something about Mrs. White that had angered Harold so immensely that he felt he had to dispose of her as quickly as possible. He had a knife on him, for he was saving it for a victim he needed dead immediately, and Mrs. White had suffered the consequences for not speaking up when he had demanded it of her.

"Freeze!" the police officer yelled, pointing a gun in the room as he swiftly entered. He did not find Harold Ray in the room, but rather found his victim, Mrs. White. She was sprawled across the floor, blood covered and mangled. She'd suffered 20 stabs to the chest and 10 more to the stomach. She hadn't a chance of survival; Harold had seen to that.

"Oh, sh--" the officer began, never able to complete his sentence as Harold plunged the knife that had taken Mrs. White into his back.

The officer fell to the ground, paralyzed and desperate for backup. He dug in his pocket for his walkie-talkie, but Harold was already in the process of killing him. He stabbed him in the back countless times, kicking his gun out of his hand as well. Now the officer was helpless; unarmed and immobile.

He kicked the officer in the jaw, dashing towards the gun before he could grab his foot in his last attempt to stop him.

The officer stared up at Harold with pleading eyes. As the gun was aimed for his head, he prayed as the husky man glared down at him and pulled the trigger. He had no mercy for the armed forces.

OooooooO

"Where is he?!" Harold shouted in a receptionist's face, scaring her half to death. No police officer dared to even _attempt_ taking Harold out; one screw up and he'd kill without hesitation. Everyone held their breaths as he waited for an answer.

"B-bottom floor... In the laboratory..." the receptionist squeaked. Harold pointed the gun at her head and warned the police that if they tried to follow, he'd shoot. He slowly backed into the elevator, arm around her as he took her as a hostage. The police only watched helplessly.

"See ya around coppers!" he whooped, closing the elevator door after shoving her out. The police all leapt into action, running in all directions as they searched for another way down. The stairs were the only option; he'd conveniently disconnected all the other operating elevators.

Heaven only knew if they'd make it in time...

"Nobody move!" Harold roared, shooting the ceiling as warning that he was well armed.

The R&D members scattered, some beginning to sob like children and others dropping to the floor and begging for mercy.

One of the members wedged himself into a corner, shaking violently. Harold snatched him up by the lab coat, effortlessly lifting him into the air. He wasn't as weak as he once was; tussling with police had become an every day chore that required much skill and muscle.

"Tell me, Professor..." he began, scratching his chin. The seemingly tiny man shook like a leaf, looking ready to bawl as a terrified infant would. "Where is my son, Lucas Ray? I heard he was down here..."

"L-Lucas...? H-he's with Dr. Niguel, he visits him q-quite often... His p-private lab is right next d-door..." the frail man replied in a high-pitched and cracking voice. Harold nodded, dropping him to the floor. He slithered on next door, entering the room unnoticed.

Victor and Lucas laughed as the news reporters fumbled to get their papers in order. Seeing professionals mess up was quite amusing, as it didn't happen often.

"Ha, idiots," Victor mused.

They were completely unaware of Harold's entrance. The room was virtually soundproof, so they hadn't heard the gunshot.

Sneaking up behind them on the couch, Harold aimed at the TV screen and shot it, shattering it into pieces. Both Victor's and Lucas' hearts leapt into their throats, choking them for several moments as they spotted Harold Ray looming over them.

Both of them swallowed hard, beginning to tremble as he grinned and revealed yellow, crooked teeth.

"Don't move a muscle," Harold ordered, pointing the gun at Victor's head. Victor so badly wanted to say: _My heart's a muscle and it's moving, can't really control that, now can I?_ But quickly revised the sentence and found saying it would be suicide. Harold, if he were brighter, would probably have replied by shooting him, then remarking: _Well, looks like I can control whether your muscles, including your heart, move or not!_

"F-Father..." Lucas choked, eyes darting side to side. "P-please, don't kill him! Father, please! I'll do anything you want, anything!!" Lucas fell to his knees, clasping his hands together as tears poured down his face.

"If only you had been there to plead for mercy on behalf of your 'Mommy'," Harold scoffed, throwing back his head and laughing.

"W-what...?" he asked, not wanting to believe what he'd heard. Had he truly murdered Mrs. White? "No..." Lucas shook his head, tears pouring out of his eyes like small rivers.

"Yes."

"No... You didn't... You couldn't..." Lucas whispered, confused and on the verge of a breakdown.

"I would, and... I was very capable, too. Taking her life was like breathing; it was involuntary..."

"No!!" Lucas roared, tackling his father. They tussled on the ground as they played a life-or-death game of tug-of-war for the gun.

"Damnit!" Victor growled, hopping over the couch and making way for the emergency button. By pressing it, everyone would be able to evacuate where Harold had tried to block escape routes and the police get in without a problem. Harold had been swift while messing around with the wires in the fuse box; he'd cut all the ones operating the doors, meaning they'd all have to be pried open by hand. He could do this with little effort, but it'd take a long time for the officers to do so.

"Oh, no you don't!" Harold exclaimed, bashing Lucas in the head with the butt of the gun and proceeding to shoot Victor.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed in pain, dropping to the floor before reaching the button. He'd been shot in the leg. There was no way he'd make it there in time now... Not with one leg, he wouldn't.

"Heh..." Harold chuckled, approaching the injured Victor. "Let's just take care of your other leg too..."As the gun was pointed at his leg, Victor struggled to drag himself away, but was far too sluggish to have any hope. The bullet would hit no matter where he fled to; it was merely faster than he, whether he was wounded or not. Harold pulled the trigger, laughing manically as the researcher screamed in pain a second time.

"_Damnit!!_" he screamed, groaning in agony.

"Stay down and I won't blow out your brains," he warned, kicking Victor in the gut and knocking the wind out of him.

Harold reproached Lucas, who had suffered mild head trauma from the blow he'd received.

"No, Lucas!" Victor shouted, recovering his breath.

"No, no, no!!" Lucas exclaimed as Harold dragged him to the elevator.

"Lucas! Damn you, let him the hell go! You bastard!!" Victor roared.

"Victor, Victor help me! I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!!" Lucas pled, struggling as Harold entered the elevator.

"Lucas!" Victor yelled, dragging himself as rapidly as he could. How he wished he hadn't skipped gym class so many years ago!

"Bye-bye now!" Harold told him, pressing the "top floor" button. The doors of the elevator closed, shutting out Lucas' screaming.

"Lucas!!"


	7. This Is My Life

_This Is My Life_

Harold Ray took his son to the top floor, climbing the ladder that led to the roof. The struggling Lucas squirmed and fought, thrashing about as he refused to be overtaken by his wretched father again.

"Let me go, let me go, you _monster_!" Lucas screamed.

"Shut the hell up!" Harold retorted, smacking Lucas around. He beat Lucas until every inch of him ached; never had he been abused this brutally. His father was out for blood this time...

"You bastard..." Lucas said lowly, glaring with tear-filled eyes at his demon of a father.

"Shut up," he replied, kicking Lucas in the jaw. Lucas responded with a pained grunt, choking back sobs as the pain intensified. He was already beginning to bruise and swell. "You're the bastard, my son... You were born only to be destroyed, can't you see? You were never even _meant_ to be born!"

"What...?"

"I impregnated your mother after she'd had her fill of boys, so as a gift I offered to pay for her to have an abortion. She accepted the money without hesitation, greedily taking it from my hands as she scheduled an appointment.

"I don't know what the hell happened, but the abortion didn't work. They said they'd gotten you, they'd gotten you, there was no way you would've survived, but you did! You were born 9 months later as planned, and your mother called you her miracle baby..."

"Um..."

"It made me sick, having to hear that crap all the time. How 'fortunate' I was, and how 'blessed' we were to have you though we tried to kill you! Oh, how I wish I could've sued those bastards for failing..."

"You said you loved me, once upon a time..." Lucas murmured.

"I did. I still do, it's only a father's instincts to love his own boy, his flesh and blood... And that's why I must kill you. I love you _too damn much_ and it drives me _insane_!"

"What are you going to do...?" Lucas asked.

"Kill you, I just told you! I see your hearing's as bad as your eyes!" he shouted, swiping his glasses off his face and throwing them off the edge of the building. "You're next."

"No! Father, no, please!!" he pled, clinging weakly to his leg.

"Goodbye, Lucas!" Harold yelled, picking him up by the collar and throwing him from the roof.

Lucas had fortunately grabbed onto a windowsill down below at just the right moment, one that had an open window he could crawl into. If only he hadn't been so weak, then he could actually do that...

He grasped onto the sill weakly, his hands clammy and drenched in sweat. The effort it took to hold on was unbearable; it took all his strength and energy just to keep from falling, to keep holding on...

"Damn you!" Harold growled as he looked over the edge, expecting to see a dead Lucas in a blood pool rather than a barely live one hanging for dear life onto a windowsill. Lucas had only fallen two stories, grabbing the windowsill shortly after he was tossed off. Harold could _still_ get to him... He silently prayed someone was watching over him, someone would send aid or rescue... 16 years wasn't long enough...

Lucas strained with his whole body to pull himself up and in, but without success. He was too weak to accomplish the goal.

"I'm sorry, my son, but it's time you joined your mother... Enjoy hell, Lucas!" Harold laughed, pulling the flask that contained the arsenic out of his coat pocket. Lucas strained his eyes to focus, just able to make out the flask's awkward outline; it was all over now.

"No... No, please..."

Harold didn't hold back; he removed the lid, turned it upside down, and spilled its contents onto his son below.

As the arsenic stripped his flesh and stung his eyes like he'd never felt before, Lucas screamed his lungs out. His will was more powerful than pain, but not even a strong will could escape death.

He felt his hands begin to slip, crying as memories of his life flooded into him. He couldn't escape his fate this time. There was just no way...

"No... I didn't come this far... to let you kill me!!" With all the strength in his body, Lucas grabbed the windowsill with both hands and gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white and split open. He slowly began to lift himself up, crying in pain as he did so.

"No! You little bastard! Not this time, be a man and accept you fate!!" Harold ordered, barking cuss words at him.

"This isn't my fate... You can't decide that, you're not God! You're nothing, you're just a coward! I won't let you control my life anymore; this is my life!!" Lucas' adrenal glands excreted a high amount of adrenaline suddenly, giving him the extra boost he needed to lift himself up and _nearly_ in.

"NO!" Harold roared. He leaped over the edge, grabbing hold of Lucas' ankle on the way down and pulling him out of the open window once more. Lucas still had hold, but not for long. Harold was a good 200 pounds; he could barely hold his own weight!

"Get off of me!" Lucas shrieked, kicking his father in the face with his free foot. He kicked him in the jaw, broke his nose, and bust his lip open in three places. Harold suffered broken teeth as well, but still he clung to his son's ankle. He was so _sick_ and _twisted_ that he was even willing to die if it meant Lucas came down with him.

"Lucas!" Victor exclaimed, staggering up to the window. How he'd made it up there no one knew; even Victor didn't!

He'd also been informed by petrified-with-fear R&D members that he'd mentioned throwing him off the roof, and when Victor made his way up the daunting stairs, he heard Lucas' cries for help and was able to locate his whereabouts. He'd been spot on, able to discover just where Lucas was. Victor _was_ a genius, after all!

Getting this far had completely drained him of energy, but he knew what had to be done. If Lucas would be saved, he had to use the last of his strength to make it happen. But his legs ached so...

How he walked on them he didn't know, especially in the state they were in. The adrenaline pumped into his own body provided him with enough to will away the pain and hobble up to the 2nd floor to the top where Lucas was, but who knew how long it would last. He would have a terrible limp for weeks, nevertheless. It didn't hurt now but in short time it would hit him like a ton of bricks. He could already feel the numbness begin to fade...

"Victor?!" Lucas inquired in surprise, making out the dark-haired figure above him.

"Lucas, grab my hand!" Victor commanded, extending it to him. Lucas was reluctant to let go, fearing his father would jerk him down before Victor grabbed him. "Lucas!"

"I can't!" Lucas cried, the windowsill slipping from his grip once more.

"Trust me!" Victor yelled.

"I'm scared!!" Lucas admitted with shame.

"Don't be scared, I promise, you'll be okay!"

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through him as Harold bit his calf, tearing through the flesh. His hands had become too sweaty to grasp his ankle, so he resorted to using his teeth. Big mistake. Without the slightest hesitation, Lucas kicked his father in the face for the last time, sending him down... down... down...

Harold Ray fell to his death that afternoon, that glorious blood pool he'd wanted to see Lucas lying in surrounding his _own_ lifeless body. His eyes were wide open, the hateful embers in them completely gone now. They were dead, frightened eyes. Only Lucas was able to strike fear into Harold Ray's heart; and he did.

"I gotcha!" Victor assured him, pulling Lucas in through the window. They both fell to the floor, chests heaving and drenched in sweat. At last it was over...

Lucas pulled out his inhaler, using it ever so rapidly. He had a mild case of asthma, though no one knew because he rarely needed to use his inhaler in public. This event had brought on the first attack he'd had in a long time; he was usually able to calm his breathing before resorting to the inhaler. How he detested it... He hated any object he felt he had to rely on.

Lucas drew in a sharp breath to take in more medicine, finding his inhaler _empty_.

"_Can't... breathe..._" he gasped, frantically gulping in air.

"Lucas...?" Victor queried, brow furrowing as he stared into Lucas' eyes circling eyes.

The pain suddenly hit him, stabbing at his legs terribly. He moaned in agony, breathing shallowly, but still focused on Lucas.

The teen took a long time to reply, but at last he did, producing incomplete, breathless sentences.

"_Victor... I... I can't... I can't breathe... Can't... Breathe..._"


	8. Aftermath

_Aftermath_

"Lucas, you've got to calm down," said Victor. "Just take deep breaths. You'll be fine."

"I... I can't..." Lucas stammered, his breaths becoming more desperate. He would lose consciousness soon if his lungs failed to deliver the oxygen his body needed. To Victor, it looked like one nasty attack, and it didn't appear it would clear up anytime soon.

"Try," Victor urged, rubbing Lucas' back. He groaned in pain as he put his weight on the worse leg to lean over. He was losing blood at a rapid pace; it wouldn't be long before he too passed out.

"Just... Leave me..." Lucas gasped.

"Leave?" Victor stared hard at him, trying to peer into his thoughts.

"Leave me... To die..." he answered. Victor was taken aback at the response.

"I saved your life, kid, no way am I letting all that effort burn to nothing! You're going to be okay, just breathe!"

"Victor, you're hurt... badly... go, before you bleed to death!" he yelled breathlessly.

"I'm not leaving without you!" he retorted. Lucas' wheezing suddenly came to an abrupt halt. He turned blue, grabbing at his throat. "Lucas?!"

"Uh...ugh..." he uttered shrilly.

"No! Damnit! Lucas, breathe! Breathe, damn you!" Victor commanded, shaking him roughly by the shoulders. "You didn't come this far to die now!"

Lucas did not respond. He stared into Victor's eyes. He stared long and hard, squinting and barely able to see him now. Then his vision blurred... Blurred... Completely black now.

He felt his eyes were open. He knew they were. Tears flowed and he felt them water from dryness and from the stinging as an aftereffect of the acid. But he could not see. The asthma attack spiked almost instantly after this. He wasn't breathing and now the asthma attack had intensified. All hope was lost.

"No! Lucas, relax... You have to calm down. Listen to me. Don't think. Empty your mind, and do it now."

Lucas was trembling violently, becoming pale and cold. He was going into shock.

"Do it," Victor ordered a second time. Lucas shut his eyes and did as he was told, emptying his mind of all thoughts. "Is your mind empty?" _It was in the first place, ahaha... Okay, not funny Niguel, focus._ Lucas nodded.

"Now think of something... else. Something happy."

"Like what...?"

"You're welcome."

"Huh?"

"You're breathing," Victor replied. Lucas was confused at first, but then realized what Victor said was true. _Duh! I wouldn't be talking if I couldn't breathe... That's dumb of me. I have to admit, that's a good trick. _Lucas' breathing was improving by the minute. The asthma attack began to subside. He felt his chest loosening, his breathing becoming slower and deeper. He was overcoming the shock. "There..."

"I-I'm okay...!"

"I told you that in the first place," he reminded him.

"How did you know that would work?" Lucas asked.

"I just know. I'm a genius."

"Thank you..." he said, hugging him. Victor groaned in response.

"Oh, let go of me," he grumbled.

"Yes Victor." He quickly released him.

"What happened to Mr. Niguel?" Victor queried. Lucas shrugged and thanked him once more, not daring to worry him further with the fact that he couldn't see. He would act like nothing was wrong. It was surely fixable, right? They'd both have a doctor repair the damage they suffered and everything would be okay...

Policemen rushed in moments later, asking all at once if they were alright. Victor was the first to reply with his necessary smart-ass remark, as he always felt needed to be said before anything else.

"Yeah, we're just fine. I got shot in both legs, Lucas was nearly killed by being thrown off the roof and then having chemically altered arsenic poured on him, and he almost lost consciousness from an asthma attack. We're just peachy."

The police officers shook their heads and ordered in for paramedics, as the hospital would remain evacuated for at least the remainder of the day. Everyone had been evacuated when the police couldn't find Ray.

Victor was still pissed. He'd gone in and personally asked his workers where Harold had gone. They didn't help him at all! Why? Were they cowards? He would punish them later, he decided. And Caduceus' inability to do… anything… That infuriated him. He would have a long talk with Sidney.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes afterward and the paramedics loaded them onto stretchers. They conversed with the police a few minutes to get a basic idea of their injuries, and then they made their way towards Hope Hospital.

Victor stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, deep in thought. The female paramedic asked casually: "Rough day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

OoooooO

In a few days Caduceus reopened and Victor requested that he and Lucas be transferred there for further treatment. He wanted to be as close to work as possible.

It had only been a few weeks when Victor was checked into Caduceus. He was recovering quickly. The only side effect was the aching legs, and that he found easy to ignore. It was only a minor ache, after all. They'd numbed him up pretty well.

He also gave lectures to his R&D members via e-mail and informed Sidney of Caduceus' lack of trustworthy staff. Director Kasal was surely upset that this had occurred under his nose, but he wasn't sure what he could do about it. It was over.

After several conferences the issues were dealt with and Victor's nerves were settled. Hopefully, the next incident wouldn't leave them so helpless. Ray had the upper hand; surprise and skill. He worked out his route completely. If there was ever a mastermind of his stature again, they would need to be prepared. If they were lucky, they wouldn't need to.

--

"Ah, much better," Victor remarked one morning as he felt the bed. It was softer and cozier than those at Hope Hospital. He laid back and took the moment to relax, something he rarely found himself doing. He wasn't a leisurely type of man; he didn't find comfort in just laying back and letting what come, come. He liked to work. He loved bossing the R&D members around and barking at Lucas. It's what gave his life so much appeal. Without it, he was an average person. That's how he felt anyway. Even in recovery he conducted research to keep himself busy.

"Um... What are you doing?" Angie asked as she walked in that afternoon, noticing he was staring at the heart monitor.

"Doing an experiment," he replied coolly, not averting his gaze from the monitor.

"What kind of experiment?"

"Man vs. Machine. I take my own pulse more accurately than this thing does. My readings are exactly 2 percent more accurate." Angie sighed and shook her head. "What do you want anyway?"

"You're being discharged," she answered, handing him the discharge form.

"Awesome! I mean… _finally_." He rapidly signed the paper and shoved it back into her arms. He stood up and hobbled over to the dresser. "Can a man have some privacy?"

"Um... sure..." she said lowly, stepping out of the room, the doors shutting behind her.

He quickly changed into his work uniform and scrambled downstairs before Sidney got word and tried to stop him. Thank God the elevators were working!

"I'm baaaaack!" Victor chimed. The R&D members all sighed. They weren't expecting him to return to work _on_ the day of his discharge... It was quite a shame for them. "What do you think you're doing? Get to work, you lazy idiots! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, there's research to conducted, work to be done, papers to be filed! Step to it!" The members scattered, bringing a smile to Victor's face. It was _great _to be back.

OooooooO

"How is he doing?" Victor asked Mr. Langley, whom was standing beside him outside Lucas' door. They'd been conversing for some time now, getting to know each other and their personal ties to Lucas.

Lucas had been less fortunate than Victor. It had already been a week since Victor's discharge, but Lucas hadn't even made it out of the ICU yet. It looked like it'd be a while before he would be able to return to his summer work down in the lab.

"He's not doing well. He's gaining strength, his lungs are functioning normally, but the arsenic took quite the toll on his body," Mr. Langley replied. "You should see the scars. Horrendous."

"His eyes looked pretty bad too. How are they?"

Mr. Langley was silent a moment. He exhaled and answered: "They aren't okay. They're... dysfunctional. He'll never see again."

"You're serious...?" he asked lowly, brow furrowing.

"I would not lie. I haven't told him yet... I don't feel it's my place. I think the director planned on breaking the news after breakfast--"

"No. The chief can't tell him. I have to. He'll believe me."

"You're very brave, Mr. Niguel. Good luck."

"Yeah. See you around," Victor said, shaking his hand. Mr. Langley waved goodbye and departed, leaving Victor with the difficult task of bearing the bad news.

He entered the dark room, noticing the decrepit Lucas lying lifelessly in the bed. He appeared so ancient and worn...

Victor approached and observed him further, noting the new scars. His face was as raw as his torso, where the skin had been stripped. He looked more pitiful than he had the day it happened. The aftermath turned out to be more painful and extreme than the incident itself. He looked _so_ pitiful...

"Lucas?" Victor asked, shaking him gently. After persistent shaking he was roused from sleep. Lucas stretched as he woke, yawning hello. Lucas cringed slightly after his stretch. It was obvious it hurt to move. Victor only returned the greeting, quietly.

Lucas smiled, his face twisting in pain as he did so. From the waist up, the top layer of skin was completely gone. It was healing, but this process was excruciating. It seemed that even _small_ movements affected him.

"Listen, Lucas..." Victor began slowly. "About your eyes..."

"My eyes? What's wrong with my eyes? They fixed them, didn't they? Oh, I get it, they just need time to recover, huh? That's gonna be a drag. How long?" Lucas was quick in his questioning, but apparently he suffered dearly for it. He stroked his jaw gently, kneading the pain away.

"You don't understand..."

"...What do you mean? They'll remove the bandages and everything, and my eyes'll be alright... What's there to understand?"

"Lucas... Um..." Victor couldn't help staring at the scars on his chest, the ones visible anyway. They were awful scars. He didn't think there was a patch of original skin left. The acid had taken everything... Including his eyesight.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"They... What your father did... the damage..."

"Cough it up!"

"The damage was irreversible. They weren't able to repair your eyes. I'm sorry, Lucas, but you'll never... see again... You're blind..." he stammered.

"...No..." Lucas muttered, shaking his head. "No... That can't be... I thought it would just be temporary!"

"Now, Lucas..." Victor started weakly.

"No! You're lying! I can't be blind! How will I work? How will I go back to school? H-how will I become an R&D if I'm blind?! How will I do anything?!"

"I'm so, so sorry..."

"No! I can't be blind! I can't be!" Lucas screamed, tearing the bandages off. He strained his eyes, strained them with all his might, but he could perceive nothing. He couldn't see anything through his eyes. He was truly blind. "No... no...!" He burst into tears, cradling his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Lucas..." Victor apologized, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lucas buried his face in his shirt and cried; cried for several minutes nonstop. Victor consoled him to his best ability, shushing him and rubbing his back, but the compassion wasn't there. Lucas could sense it. After the crying fit he kicked him out, not wanting his false pity.

Victor stood outside his door for a long time, staring at it blankly. He felt helpless; worthless. He couldn't do anything to alleviate Lucas' intense pain. He ran his hand through his dark locks and sighed. He apologized inaudibly and turned and walked down the hall. No more could be said.

No more could be done.


	9. Empty

Weeks passed and Lucas was finally discharged from the hospital. He was happy that he was no longer confined to bed... But what could he do now?

He clearly couldn't work down in R the blind couldn't pursue such tasks as organizing. He was of no value.

He had no home to return to. He had no family or friends; he felt lonely and hopeless. He was absolutely miserable; he couldn't even turn to his mentor now. What kind of mentor wanted a blind teen? It was a waste of his time.

Mr. Langley discussed possible options; Lucas could learn brail, become a public speaker, those sorts of things. The blind could find opportunities if they looked hard enough. Mr. Langley, though he was kind and encouraged him, couldn't convince him in the least. His depression returned within a few days.

"Why, I'm sure you can stay with _someone_," Mr. Langley suggested. "Why don't you ask around? Someone's got to have room."

"Yeah, right..." Lucas muttered, poking his way down the hallway with his blind-stick. There were a lot of things to adapt to.

Lucas was quite different than he once was. He'd lost so much, gained so little. He no longer wore a smile. He didn't even try to fake happiness anymore; what was there to be happy about? He'd lost his home, was responsible for his father's death, and Mrs. White was gone. He was blind. Victor didn't seem to care. The only emotion he could feel was sadness. Even that couldn't describe it.

The hot weather did nothing to influence his clothing. He still wore long sleeved, buttoned-up shirts 24/7, usually dark in color. He wore his clothing as he always had, but a new addition was sunglasses. He wanted no one to see his eyes. He knew they were horrendous just by feeling them; they were scarred on the eyelids and he was told they were red in color and glazed over. After that, he never wanted them to be seen again. He would hide them away.

Those beautiful, beautiful, eyes... Never would they shine again. Never would they show again.

You could say Lucas lost all his self-confidence. He didn't believe in himself anymore and was closed to the world more so than before. Nothing would ever be the same for Lucas. He was changed forever.

Something he missed dearly was reading. If he couldn't see, he couldn't read. It was as simple as that. Nor would he allow anyone to read to him. He wanted to be alone; isolated. He became cold and mysterious.

With Sidney's permission, he was allowed to remain at Caduceus. He made the old fax room his home; rarely did he come out. Only to eat or go to the bathroom, nothing more. Whenever Sidney or someone else came to check on him, he pretended like he was sleeping or busy. He just wanted to be alone.

Lucas walked briskly down the hall, receiving stares from all as he made his way around. He felt the eyes; he hated them. He hated everyone and everything. He wanted to live a peaceful life, but that would never be a reachable dream now. He'd struggled and made his way to the top of the mountain, just to be pushed down. Simply put, he gave up the struggle and walked limply up to the top again, usually giving up before he made it a single step. There was no fire. No passion. He didn't care.

He suddenly bumped into Cybil, who gasped and apologized immediately.

"Don't worry about it..." he mumbled. "They may need the fax room back. Would you have any room for me at your house, Ms. Myers?"

Cybil bit her bottom lip and tapped her foot worriedly. She wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't really have the room... But she didn't want to hurt Lucas...

"I...I'm sorry, Lucas... I just don't really..."

"Thanks," he growled lowly, pushing past her. By the end of the hour he'd found all the doctors, bumping into them one way or another, and asked them if they had available space. He knew even if they did they'd make some excuse; no one wanted Lucas around. No one was left to ask, and after explaining the situation to Sidney, he smiled gently and told Lucas they would make arrangements so he could remain in the room he was currently in. Lucas thanked him ungratefully and returned to his stuffy room.

"This... life..." Lucas murmured, beginning to tremble. "What am I even living for...? I have no future... I have nothing..." He collapsed on the bed and moped for the rest of the day. He eventually cried himself to sleep that night, dreaming peacefully.

His dreams... That's where Lucas escaped. He could be anyone and do anything in his dreams. He often dreamt he could see, dreamt he was Superman; impenetrable, undefeatable... Wonderful, vivid dreams. Sometimes he wished he could sleep forever. In his dreams, he was alive. He was real.

OooooooO

Mrs. White's funeral was a depressing occasion for all. Those who knew her wept sorrowfully. Caduceus members took the time to honor all her accomplishments at the hospital and commented on what a kind, likable worker she was. She was reliable and not a single person could say something negative on her behalf.

Victor stood beside Lucas that day, not speaking a word to him. What was there to say?

Everyone took their turns, saying a few words of farewell and placing flowers on her grave. Lucas was the only one who brought nothing; not tears, not flowers, not farewells... He had nothing to offer. He couldn't even find kindness in his heart to say anything at the ceremony. His heart was frozen over.

"Why don't you speak?" Victor growled.

"There is nothing to say," Lucas replied indifferently.

"She gave you a home, she served as your mother, she cared for and loved you! She died protecting you, and all you can do is stand here? You can't even shed a single tear?"

"That's right. There are no tears to cry. I'm all dried up."

"You act like you're ninety! You are _sixteen_, Lucas; you have plenty of life before you. Mrs. White saw it in you, she believed in you... And I did, a time ago. But Lucas... How can I believe in you, if you don't believe in yourself? You don't act like you want to be an R&D member."

"I don't. That dream is gone... Everything is gone." Victor gritted his teeth and turned away from Lucas.

"You should be ashamed of yourself..." Victor said ruefully. "Giving up before you're finished. Just letting everything Mrs. White taught you... Go down the drain."

"My life is ruined. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not even living. I'm a shell," Lucas replied. Victor scowled and shook his head. Who was this? It wasn't Lucas. It couldn't be. Lucas was never so cruel. Lucas wouldn't have given up this easily. Who was this young man, and what had he done with the Lucas Victor had come to love?

**A/N: How was that? Was it okay...? I know it wasn't my best, but it's a necessary chapter. The next will be... interesting if what I'm envisioning comes to be. **

**Oh, and before I go, I have to tell ya... THAT VICTOR IS NOT GAY!**

**It's a brotherly, sort of father/son kind of love, okay you sickos out there? Leave my adorable relationship alone! It is not gay, so don't even think like that! You know who you are...**

**Okay, with that said, buh-bye! **


	10. The Wrath of a Lover

_The Wrath of a Lover_

Victor had gotten used to working alone in the lab again, organizing all his files by his lonesome and being accompanied by silence. He adjusted to never seeing Lucas. He cared, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He acted like everything was okay, like he always had. What he'd told Lucas at the funeral hadn't fazed him, which surely meant Lucas wasn't worth the trouble. There was nothing he could say to change his mind.

It was late June before Victor saw Lucas again. The event that brought them together, however, was less than pleasant.

"Good afternoon, Mr. White," Sidney greeted widower Benjamin White.

"Good afternoon..." Benjamin replied quietly. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he stared down at his reflection on the tiles. He was a tall man with blonde hair and sepia eyes.

"What brings you here?" Sidney queried. "You got all the supplies from your wife's office, didn't you?"

Benjamin thought a moment before replying. "Yeah. I got everything. I came to visit Lucas." It was a strange thing to say, considering he was the one who kicked Lucas out of the house. After Mrs. White died, he told Lucas the pain was so unbearable that leaving was his best option so no complications would arise. Lucas accepted and returned to Caduceus, where he spoke to Mr. Langley after being told the old fax room would be available, but not for long.

"Lucas? Oh, right... He may be busy, but I'll take you to his room." Sidney led Mr. White to the old fax room where Lucas waited inside, puzzling over a brail word-cross. Mr. Langley had finally forced him to learn, and learn he did. He still wasn't very good, but he remarked once that he recognized the letter X.

"Here he is," said Sidney. Benjamin thanked him and stepped inside, the door shutting behind him.

"Who's there?" Lucas asked, head cocked towards the doorway where someone had entered. "That you, Director? I'm busy."

"It's not Director Kasal," Benjamin replied coldly, sending a shiver up Lucas' spine.

"O-oh, Mr. White... It's you... I didn't expect you..." Lucas answered softly.

"Yeah. I'm sure you didn't. You know Lucas; I've been pretty damn depressed over the passed few weeks. Every time I think of my wife's death... Your face comes into view." Lucas shuddered, suddenly experiencing an aching pain in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right.

"It could just be because you're your father's son... And he _is_ the one who killed her, after all. But you know, I've never liked children. She wanted children so dearly, but I refused to be a father. Then she found you. She loved you, loved you more than she had ever loved anyone. She always talked about you, always told me what a poor, poor thing you were... It made me sick.

"Then she tells me she's adopted you. She would just be your guardian, your friend, she said. Yet, she was going to care for you if it cost her every penny... And that, is what killed her. Your father decided to take her life because she laid it on the line to protect _you_. Worthless, little, Lucas."

"Sir, I'm sorry, I..."

"No. You're not sorry. Not yet," Benjamin said calmly, slowly approaching him. Lucas heard his footsteps becoming louder in his ears; he knew he was coming for him.

"What are you going to do...?" he queried shrilly.

"I'm going to kill you, Lucas. Maybe then my mind can rest..." In an instant Benjamin had him pinned, holding him by the throat against the wall. Lucas gasped, but didn't struggle. He smiled inwardly.

"I suppose... I deserve this..." he said breathlessly. "Go ahead..."

"You seem so calm... Why is that, Lucas?" the other asked, tightening his grip on his windpipe. Lucas did not respond. His face lost color and his legs dangled lifelessly, like those of a rag-doll's. His lips took on a blue tint within seconds. "What happened to that flame? That ember my wife always spoke of? She said you were so confident..."

Lucas did not respond. He knew the end was near. There was no will to live. It wouldn't be long...

Victor sighed and knocked hopelessly on Lucas' door, knowing well Lucas wouldn't invite him in. He stared down at the brail books he'd purchased earlier that morning. He thought Lucas could put them to good use.

Sighing again, Victor offered one more knock before saying: "Lucas, it's me. Victor. I have something for you."

No reply. He held his breath and listened carefully, unable to make out the words being murmured on the other side of the closed door. "Lucas?"

"Damn... You brat, tell him you're fine!" Benjamin whispered hoarsely. He released Lucas for the moment.

He dropped to the ground, shaky and pale. He coughed and gasped, his sunglasses falling from his face. He searched for them on the ground desperately; he wanted to cover his grotesque eyes.

"Lucas?" Victor queried again.

"I-I'm fine!" Lucas yelled, placing the glasses back on his face. He pressed them up against the bridge of his nose. "I'm just fine..."

"Okay. I brought you something."

"Just leave it at the door..." said Lucas. Victor shrugged and set down the books, taking a few false steps away; loud and heavy steps. He _wanted_ Lucas to hear them. The teen was hiding something, and he would discover his secret.

"You idiot!" Benjamin screamed, backhanding him. "Now he's suspicious!" Lucas crumbled to the ground once more, shielding his face from further harm.

"I-I'm sorry... I tried to sound convi--" Benjamin kicked him directly in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. An asthma attack struck, and the wheezing began.

"Convincing, my ass. That was _horrid_ lying," Benjamin hissed, throwing Lucas into the wall. He groaned in pain as he made impact.

"Lucas, what the hell is--?!" blurted Victor as he burst through the door. Benjamin craned his neck so he could look the researcher in the eye. His own red-rimmed eyes burned with hatred; no; more than hatred. Passionate hatred. Hatred that could kill. Hatred that _would_ kill, inevitably. "...Mr. White?" the researcher queried.

"Humph... You're that damn hero, aren't you? The one who saved this little bastard..." he growled.

"What do you intend to do?" the researcher inquired, taking cautious steps in Lucas' direction.

"I intend to kill him. And I will. Stay back, and you won't suffer the same fate..."

"Let me worry about him. Go on and get drunk or something, you bastard. This boy's been through enough," Victor retorted.

Benjamin scowled and shook his head in disagreement. "You just don't get it, do you? My wife was everything to me! Because of him, she's gone! It's all his fault... He deserves it, he even said so himself!" Victor looked back at Lucas, who did not deny this.

"He's just... confused," he argued. "He doesn't want this any more than you want to kill him... You're both just confused; upset and out of sorts."

"Ha!" Benjamin whooped, chuckling under his breath. "Out of sorts... You lay the cards down so blatantly. Out of sorts, ha! What a joke... Who do you think you're fooling? That doesn't even begin to describe it!"

"You don't want to do this," Victor fought weakly.

"I really think I do," he stated with a smirk. He reached into his jacket-pocket and pulled out a knife. "If only he weren't blind... Then he could have the same terrified look as you do." He poised the knife, daring Victor to step forward and protect Lucas.

"No! Get away from him, you bastard!" Victor commanded.

"Are you going to stop me?" the blonde asked, taking slow and precise steps towards his victim.

"No... Please...!" Victor begged. Benjamin quickened his pace, smiling larger with every step.

Victor became frantic, searching desperately for anything he could use as a weapon. He finally resorted to screaming for help, but too late. Benjamin had already plunged the knife into Lucas' abdomen thrice. Blood poured in profuse amounts from the wounds, sapping all the hope Victor had left. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the tiled floor with a thud. He breathed heavily, staring wide-eyed at the dying Lucas.

Benjamin laughed manically, tossing the knife behind his shoulder. "Are you so fragile?"

Lucas gasped and grabbed at the wounds ferociously; he hoped it would ease the pain, but it seemed only to make things worse.

He hadn't even uttered a cry when he was stabbed; it had all been too sudden. He felt a jab, another, another... Pain shot through his body. He was _paralyzed_. The searing pain tore him in two.

And he smelled the blood, what he recognized as the scent of death. That vile, disgusting odor...

And he could hear Victor's heavy breathing, Benjamin's cackling. He felt the blood trickle down his skin, crawling down his abdomen. Blood settled on his tongue as it bubbled up his esophagus and into his mouth.

"My deed is done..." Benjamin declared quietly, removing himself from the room. Victor was befuddled with Caduceus' inability to detect danger. A possible homicide had just been committed, and the perpetrator was escaping right under their noses! He'd screamed his damn lungs out, and still no one came! He was petrified; helpless. Where was everyone? Surely they'd heard him...

What about all those conferences? Had they done nothing?!

Victor dragged himself to where Lucas lay sprawled on the floor, surrounded by blood. With all the strength he could muster, he fought back his emotions. He couldn't break now; not when Lucas needed him.

"Lucas, can you hear me...?" he asked loudly, shaking him gently. "Hey! Help! Somebody, he's hurt!"

Victor tried to stand, but to no avail. His legs gave out with every attempt. "Please! Someone?! Anyone! Help!"

He explored for a pulse, discovering, to his relief, a weak but present one. He was still holding on.

"Hang on, Lucas... You're gonna be okay..." he told him sternly. "Damnit! Someone HELP!!"

When no one came, Victor saw no choice but to help Lucas himself. He knew the number one priority was to control the bleeding. "Okay..." He jammed his thumb into one wound and applied pressure with his hand to the other two. He forced all his weight onto his arms, holding back his vomit as the blood gushed between his fingers. "Ohh..."

_Damnit! Where the hell are they?! _

"IS THERE ANYONE LEFT IN THIS DAMN HOSPITAL??" he exclaimed passed the limit of the _very_ top of his lungs.

"Victor?!" Derek shrieked, stumbling into the room. He gasped when he saw Lucas' motionless body below Victor's entire weight.

"It's about damn time!" the pissed-off researcher snapped. Derek rushed to his side, plopping down next to him.

"What the hell happened?!"

"Mr. White happened! What's it look like, he was stabbed nearly to death!"

"How long has it been?"

"Damn-near ten minutes! Nobody would flipping come!" Victor growled.

"It's good that you were here... There may still be hope. Angie!" Derek called. Angie sprinted in shortly after, almost bursting into tears as she laid eyes upon Lucas.

"I-I'll get a gurney!" she said quickly, flying down the hall to retrieve it.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Derek asked Victor. He shook his head.

"I'm fine. But where was everyone when I needed them?"

"Sorry, Victor... We were all upstairs throwing a surprise party for Leslie," Derek replied, dodging his glare. Victor's eyes were wide. He couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing!

"You mean to say that while I was down here watching Lucas get stabbed by a maniac that you were upstairs partying?!" Victor roared, gritting his teeth in frustration. "You idiots don't think! Damn, the chief should know better! We just get too damn comfortable in this hospital, think we're invincible..."

Angie came running in with the gurney moments later, asking what she could do to be of help, breathlessly.

"Just help Victor and I get him onto the gurney, okay?" Angie nodded. Derek continued still to avoid eye-contact with Victor. It _was_ kind of their fault... But at least they had made it down at all, right?

"On three," she said, regaining her composure. She noticed the tense atmosphere, but ignored it as she prepared to count off. "One, two, three!" They lifted him onto the gurney gently, placing him down with equal care.

Victor was all but disgusted with his poor performance, back there when Lucas needed him. If he hadn't frozen up, hadn't let his legs fail him... Maybe he could've done something to stop the chaos. It's all he could think about as he looked down at Lucas' lifeless form.

Derek and Angie flew down the hall, wheeling the injured Lucas to an O.R. as fast as they possibly could, which disrupted Victor's thoughts. He followed behind, though fearing he would topple right over. His legs challenged him; wobbly and shaky they were.

After several minutes of racing down each winding hallway, they reached their destination: O.R. #118. Victor nearly fell backwards when Angie spun around and held out a hand to halt him as Derek entered the operating room with Lucas.

"What?" Victor asked impatiently.

"You can't follow us further. From this point on, only the medical professionals are allowed. I'm sorry," she apologized.

"I _am_ a medical professional!" he argued.

"You aren't equipped with the skills to operate or even help with a dying patient like Dr. Stiles and myself," she countered.

"Angie, please!" Victor pled between clenched teeth. She shook her head and pointed him towards the restroom.

"You should wash your hands. They're covered in blood," she told him softly. "Now, I have to go. Please, don't fight anymore. You can't come any further, and that's final. I'm sorry, Victor, but there are no exceptions," she stated, though she experienced conflicting emotions. The devastating expression on his face broke her heart; he'd never looked so distraught and lost. The words just weren't getting through to him.

"Go on," she said firmly. She let herself into the room and the doors shut behind her. Victor watched her leave, feeling slightly cross with her for denying him entrance.

He shakily walked towards the restroom and stepped inside, approaching the sink slowly.

His hands began to tremble. So much blood...

He turned on the faucet, slowly, and let the blood wash off his hands. His lip quivered as the blood washed down the drain...

There was just no way this could be happening. Lucas couldn't die… He just _couldn't_.


	11. Let the Tears Fall

_Let the Tears Fall_

"I'm telling you, that's all I know, okay? Buzz off," Victor snapped as police officers interrogated him. The older officer sighed and scratched his chin as the other rubbed her temples.

The female officer, Officer Nancy Powell, straightened up and looked Victor in the eye. "Mr. Niguel," she began, "you're not telling us everything." Victor broke their eye contact and stared at his hands. When he stared her in the eyes once more, he spoke slowly and quietly. Each word rolled off his tongue as if they were memorized lines.

"Lucas was stabbed three times in the abdomen by Benjamin White. White left, and I went to Lucas and applied pressure to the wounds. I screamed for help several times and no one came because they were all on a higher floor at the moment. That is all I know, now leave me be."

"But why were they up there?" the male officer, Officer Jake Brook queried.

"They were throwing a party for one of our nurses," Victor answered.

"Why did Benjamin White stab him? Was he provoked?" he asked.

"Lucas' father killed Lora White, his wife," the researcher answered emotionlessly.

"Where did Mr. White go?" Officer Powell inquired.

"Damnit, how the hell should I know?! He left and I stayed with Lucas, you think I went to see where that bastard went?! I was a little busy SAVING HIS LIFE!" Victor growled through gritted teeth.

The officers sighed in unison and exchanged glances. "Sir, we need all the information we can get from you. You're the only witness," Officer Brook stated in a seemingly tired voice. They had been at it for two hours now, and still weren't getting far in their investigation. They still hadn't received word on White's location, either. Their police squad was in search of him, but their chances of finding and apprehending him looked bleak.

Suddenly, Derek entered the room and took a seat beside Victor, and his nurse followed suit. Jeremiah Langley joined them as well, his face twisted in pain. Derek looked at the officers and waved them away. They immediately removed themselves from the room.

"How is he?" Victor demanded.

"He's just fine," Angie answered with a gentle smile. "The operation was quite the success." Victor nodded and let out a sigh of relief. Those two hours seemed like so much longer... He felt he'd been there for years, waiting.

"I can't believe this happened," Mr. Langley murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Thank God he's still alive!"

"I want to see him," Victor stated. Angie and Derek looked at one another a moment before replying.

"You can't right now, he needs his rest," Derek answered lowly. "Why don't you get back to work? You love working." Angie chuckled quietly in response to her doctor's comment.

"No. You guys wouldn't let me into the O.R., there's no way you're keeping me out of the ICU too. Now are you going to lead me there or will I have to find his room myself?" Victor asked cruelly. Mr. Langley was the next to step in, seeing Derek's and Angie's expressions contort into exhaustion.

"Let's go get a drink."

OooooooO

"Thank you," Mr. Langley said with a smile as the bartender served him and Victor their drinks. Victor only nodded in response. "So."

The researcher glanced in the therapist's direction before sampling his drink. Satisfied with its taste, he drank it in gulps, greedily. With a soft "aahh..." he wiped his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck, glaring gloomily down at the half-empty glass. He shoved the glass away with a grunt and crossed his arms on the table, bending his top half over and resting his head in the arches of his arms. He found he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Talk to me, Mr. Niguel," Mr. Langley said softly. "How do you feel about all this?"

To this Victor offered only a yawn. It was several minutes before he finally spoke to Mr. Langley.

"I was pissed." Mr. Langley listened intently, nodding for him to continue. "I just saw him... Mr. White. And I knew... Lucas was in trouble. But, I couldn't do anything. I froze up."

"When he stabbed him, I felt this terrible aching in my stomach. It's the first time I ever witnessed anything like that before. And worse, I was still frozen in that spot. He left and that's when I knew Lucas needed my help. And now I could supply it... So, I went over to him, and I was just calling his name, screaming for help, and..." Mr. Langley's eyes softened and he placed a hand on Victor's back.

"You were afraid."

Victor felt a sob forming at the base of his chest, and he just barely fought it back as he uttered a whimper in quivering breath. He glared at Mr. Langley, cursing him for digging into his heart and mind that way. With a huff he stormed out of the bar and sat on the curb, allowing the rain to thoroughly soak him.

The therapist followed behind calmly, seating himself beside the frustrated researcher.

"Don't do that," Victor muttered sternly.

"Don't do what, Victor?" Mr. Langley asked.

"Don't get inside my mind like that! It drives me crazy, I hate you therapists and how you just read us like books!" Victor exclaimed.

The lightning illuminated the starry sky and the thunder clapped loudly, the rain beginning to pour. As they both sat there, they breathed in the fresh aroma of the mist, and sighed as cars drove by and by.

"I did nothing, Victor. I did not get inside your mind. I only showed you how," Mr. Langley answered finally.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I showed you how to get inside your OWN mind, Victor. I did not say anything to benefit me. It was all for one person, and one person only. For you."

"I don't understand—"

"It's okay," the therapist interrupted. "I will not think any less of you. Keeping your emotions bottled up is like a poison. Don't let it poison you. Just let them out."

Victor's lip quivered as he stared out at the rain. Tears began to stream down his face as his emotions threatened to spill out on the sidewalk. He quickly brushed the moisture away and cleared his throat, attempting, poorly, to convince Mr. Langley he still had his composure, and that he had everything under control.

Mr. Langley sighed and stood up, slowly strolling away. It was a common act that almost always worked. He was an experienced therapist and he'd dealt with men like Victor on a daily basis. He knew how men like him functioned.

"...I was terrified, Mr. Langley," Victor admitted shamefully. Mr. Langley slowed to a stop, and his back still turned, he listened. The researcher was putting up a worthy fight, but the sobs and tears couldn't be held in any longer...

"I-I was so afraid, so terrified that I was going to lose him... I thought Lucas was going to die! I felt so damn worthless, so... Helpless... I hate feeling that way... And I can't help but feel that I'm partial to blame for this! I let Lucas feel unwanted, and it was my fault that he got this close to death! Because I was too damn afraid to do anything... I-I... I was so afraid that I had lost my... best friend..."

He burst into tears after his confession, wishing that he could undo what had been done. Had he acted sooner, perhaps it would have lessened Lucas' suffering. He'd been through so much already, and this was sure to scar and traumatize him as long as he lived. Things would never truly be the same...

What Lucas Ray had been through was far worse than hell. It was too much for any living being to endure. But he'd made it. The question was, just how long would it last? Because Lucas' journey isn't over yet...

There is one more obstacle that he has yet to face, and it has been approaching him as long as he can remember...

This is only the beginning of what's to come. The next turn point in the road has only two choices. Life. Or Death.


	12. Moving Forward

_Moving Forward_

"At 5:08pm this evening, Benjamin White was apprehended and arrested for attempted murder. White attacked a young Lucas Ray, whose condition is currently confidential. The 38-year-old Caucasian male came armed with a knife into Caduceus LA, and there he stabbed the teen three times in the abdomen. Victor Niguel, the head researcher of Caduceus witnessed the attack and also saved Ray, applying pressure to the fatal injuries and controlling the massive bleeding. Dr. Niguel was not available for questioning."

"Buzz off! Leave me alone!" Victor growled as he fled from enthusiastic news reporters.

"Umm… So, Victor Niguel is quite the hero than isn't he!" the female news anchor chimed in, seeing that the so-called hero was being quite uncooperative on camera.

"Ha, that's right Kim; Mr. Niguel is certainly a hero. In other news—" Aggravated, Victor shut off the TV and resumed his work in peace and quiet.

The researcher shook his head and sighed. "They could've at least had the decency to cut that part out, eh? Now I'm just the hot-headed hero… Stupid news reporters. They should get a life…" he lowered his voice to a murmur and cursed them under his breath, seeing that Sidney had stepped into the laboratory.

"Good evening, Victor," said Sidney.

"Eh," he mumbled in reply.

"How's the research on that specimen coming along?" Sidney asked casually, leaning in to get a better glance.

"Fine," he answered lowly.

"…I hear Lucas is being discharged from the ICU today. Do you plan on going to visit him?" the director asked.

"No," Victor muttered. "I have more important things to do."

Sidney pressed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and uttered a quiet "mm" before pacing over to the plasma television R&D had purchased for Victor as a gift, since his old television had been destroyed.

Victor sighed and turned around in his chair. "Enough with the small talk, what is it you want, Chief?"

Sidney turned to face him and stared at him a moment. His cold eyes pierced him, and Victor, stubborn as a mule, _backed down_.

"Your interest in the boy seems to have… ended abruptly. It's been three weeks now and you still haven't uttered a word to him; hell, you haven't even shown your face to him. Is something bothering you, Victor?"

"And just why is that _your _business?" Victor scoffed.

"It isn't. But Mr. Jeremiah Langley has requested that I speak to you. He says you've reverted back to your old self. Ever since you two went to the bar, he said you went back into your shell."

"That stupid Mr. Langley doesn't know anything. He's just full of it is what he is. Well, you can tell him to quit worrying about _me_ and worry about _himself_ 'cause I'm just damn peachy!"

"…Very well." Sidney shook his head slowly and exited the lab, sighing as the newly repaired elevator took him to a higher floor.

"Where's this guy coming off worrying about _me_? What I do is none of his damn business! I don't understand why people can't just leave well enough alone." Victor mused.

Victor resumed his work for only a few minutes before it hit him. He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, chuckling quietly beneath his breath.

"So… You think I've gone soft, eh? Well… I haven't… And never will. You know what? This worrying about Lucas ends now… He'll be fine, and I know that. So why worry? He'll be on his feet in no time. So I'm officially not going to worry about it any more. Problem solved," he told himself. He chuckled once more before returning to his specimen.

…But his mind got the better of him. Again.

He could_ just_ hear the faint whisper of Mr. Langley… As if he'd been in the room with him. As if they were _actually_ speaking to one another. And he knew exactly what he'd say: _You can hide from your mind, Victor, but you cannot hide from your heart._

OooooooO

"Good evening Lucas," Angie whispered as she gently placed the thermometer in his mouth.

"Evening…" Lucas rasped.

"Don't talk, conserve your energy, okay?" she replied. Lucas nodded and repositioned himself. Angie smiled and fluffed his pillow and tucked him in. A small grin crept across his face in response. "My, you seem to be improving every day!"

"Ang, how are his charts?" Derek asked, poking his head in.

"They're great, Dr. Stiles," she answered with a bright smile. Derek couldn't help but blush. Her smiles were so sincere, so… _Cute_…

"Did you catch that, Doctor?"

"Huh, wha?" Derek asked, dumbfounded. _How long was I spacing out? _He shook his head. "I'm sorry, would you mind repeating that?"

"Lucas asked how you were doing."

"Oh! I'm great! Wow, speaking already, is he?" Angie nodded with a giggle. "That's a vast improvement! You should be better in no time at this rate!"

Lucas was relieved to hear that he was improving, of course anyone would, but instead he responded how no one would have expected. His grin twisted into a frown, and he made no effort at all to hide his sadness.

"Lucas…?" Angie asked. "Lucas, are you alright? Are you hurting?"

"I'm fine… It's just… I had a dream that… I could see again. And now I know… I'm awake." Derek and Angie exchanged concerned glances and frowned in unison.

"Well, what do you say I take a look?" Derek offered. Lucas nodded.

Lifting his eyelid, he noticed the eye still had full movement. It could blink, it could still produce tears, and even the brightness and color had returned. Despite being glazed over and hazy, the iris glimmered and shone like gold. They had completely healed, and better—Lucas' eye welled up with tears when Derek flashed a light in it.

"Lucas, did you… See that?" Derek asked.

"I-it got bright! Like a really bright light!" Lucas cried. He rubbed his throat tenderly and whimpered in pain, but grinned a little to confirm he was alright.

"That means your eyes are sensitive to light, and that means that your eye has trained itself to scope out different light patterns! Lucas… Do you have any idea what this means? Your eyes are… Preparing to completely recover. If we can help it along, train your eyes some more or just anything, we may be able to save your eyesight! It's late, and I mean really late, but your eyes are the fastest healing organs your body has. You may just see again, Lucas… With medicine on our side, there's no reason not to give it a try!" Derek exclaimed. Lucas nodded vigorously, and a winning smile spread across his face. His eyes filled with tears of happiness… There was still hope.

OooooooO

A stack of paperwork was slapped down on top of three other piles, now increasing Victor's workload by at least 50 sheets. More work to read over, and more papers to sign with a million signatures. Oh, and you just can't forget those initials!

"Damnit, can't you see I was busy signing the other million sheets of paper?" Victor growled without even glancing upward. The figure remained silent and did not remove himself from the room. "You mind, Chief? I'm kinda busy." And still, he did not leave. _Puff, puff, puff._

Victor's eyes widened partially, and instead of glowering up at the director, he laid eyes upon Lucas, blowing away at that one strand of hair that never seemed to stay in place…

"Lucas?!" he shouted, half-standing. Two hands gently pressed him back into his chair. "Mr. Langley?"

"Good afternoon, Victor Niguel," the therapist greeted him. "It's been almost a month since we've spoken. So, Lucas and I thought we'd come pay you a visit…" Mr. Langley chuckled under his breath. "And help you. This laboratory is a complete mess. Did a tornado hit?"

"I've been busy; a genius' work is never finished. But don't you have some work to do? A therapist is always on call, after all."

"I am on call. But I need you to help me with my session with Lucas. Having another person present is vital for his mental progress. I'll be observing the two of you while you work in unison. I look forward to seeing your interactions, and of course, how well you work as a team. So you best get to working," Mr. Langley replied.

"Mr. Langley, I am a very busy man, and I'd _love_ to help, but I simply have too much to do and so little time in order to complete all these tasks, so if you would please leave me to my work, I would greatly appr--"

"Great! Lucas will have plenty to assist you with then!"

"I said no--" Lucas sat beside him on the bench and flashed his bright smile. Victor glared down at him and gritted his teeth. "_Lucas_…"

"_Victor_…" Lucas mocked.

"Knock that off."

"Knock that off," Lucas copied.

"I mean it, Lucas."

"I mean it, Victor."

"Cut it out damnit!" he yelled.

"Cut it out damnit!" Lucas countered.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?! …Um… I mean…"

Lucas laughed and shook his head. "Do you kiss your mother at all?!" He burst out laughing once more.

"You leave my mother out of this you little twerp!" Victor growled. But a smirk did creep its way onto his face, and a chuckle escaped him. Soon, the three of them were enveloped in laughter. "Haha, damn you, I'm too busy to sit here and laugh! But, hahaha, I can't stop! It's like contagious or something!"

"Heh, smiles are contagious too ya know," Lucas added. And sure enough, just as Victor predicted, Lucas shared that straight-toothed, white smile with him, attempting to prove the point he had just made.

"Oh knock it off," Victor said sternly with a playful shove. "I never smile."

"Everyone smiles, Victor," Lucas replied, slugging him in the arm. "You'd smile too if you didn't fight it!"

Victor rubbed his arm and chuckled softly. When the room had settled, Victor finally got a good look at Lucas and noted that he hadn't been wearing his sunglasses. He was also wearing a Caduceus R&D uniform, and a nametag was pinned to his shirt that said: "Lucas Ray, R&D Member in Training".

"I thought you'd given up Research and Development. You're blind, what can you possibly do?"

"…I can keep you company. And for your next research assignment, you'll need a blind volunteer. And isn't it just so convenient that I'm blind? And that I'm volunteering?"

Victor was taken aback, and after skimming through the research objectives, he understood it all. "You're going to be my right-hand man, then. Does Sidney expect me to work on such slim conditions like this? I have every right to refuse."

"Victor, I'm asking you. _Begging_ you. Take me back as your apprentice. I want to work under you, I want to help you and I want you to be my mentor. You're the only one who can teach me to be the best R&D member there is!"

"Lucas, you've given me nothing but trouble since the day I met you! Now, I simply can't be delayed any longer, so no! I will not take you as my apprentice again. Life goes on."

"Mr. Niguel," Lucas began, dropping to his hands and knees down beside Victor's feet. "I know I am unworthy to be taught by a man of your stature, and I'm a burden, and I get you into trouble and I know I'm a bad person, but I will do my very best! You are so smart, the most intelligent being perhaps to grace this Earth with your presence! I will do anything; anything if you will let me work under you! I may be crippled, impaired in eyesight, but not in spirit! I will give in my very best effort, and I will do anything you wish! Your wishes are my commands! Your burdens are mine to bear, your problems are mine to fix, your--"

"Lucas, for the love of God, shut up! Okay, okay, you win! You can be my apprentice again, just stop this putrid groveling! It's giving me a headache and it's mediocre, ridiculous, and _pathetic_! And you're _embarrassing_ yourself! Just hold your tongue and get to work! You drama queen!" Victor exploded.

"Thank you!" Lucas exclaimed, throwing his arms around his waist.

"Oh, get off! Get off already!" Victor growled in irritation. "Now make yourself useful and tidy this place up!" Lucas released Victor immediately and nodded, using his walking stick to maneuver his way around the lab. Sidney had even taken the liberty of printing the titles of the documents in brail so Lucas could be of help. It had been Mr. Langley's plan all along.

"This…" Lucas ran his fingers over the small bumps on the edge of the document. "Ah, this goes here." He placed the paper in the bin labeled GUILT. Each bin had brail as well, so Lucas could easily find the proper place for the documents.

Mr. Langley grinned as he watched his client work. Lucas hadn't smiled so much in a very long time. It was a beautiful sight to behold… Lucas had gotten his confidence back. His self-esteem was rising, and his scars no longer weighed on his shoulders. He was content; working; doing what he'd always _wanted_ to do.

Mr. Langley knew the day would come. He would dismiss Lucas from the sessions, because his assistance would no longer be needed. That time wasn't now; it was far too early; but the day would come soon. This he knew. But he had waited for that day so long… To watch his client push onward with great confidence.

Things were finally looking up.

OooooooO

Silently, Mr. Langley removed himself from the laboratory and left the two to work harmoniously. They didn't even realize he had left until closing time arrived later that night.

"Are you almost done?" Victor asked as he loomed over his apprentice.

"All finished! How does your lab look? Did I do a good job?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah, it looks fine. But it's closing time, so you have to get outta here now."

"Yes sir." Lucas stood up and retrieved his stick, and he slowly felt his way to the elevator. "Goodnight, Mr. Niguel."

"Night, Lucas." The teen smiled and turned to leave when—"Lucas…" He turned to face Victor, waiting patiently. "…I can't believe I'm saying this, but… It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, sir. Goodnight."

"…Goodnight."


End file.
